Living again
by PoppyPotter
Summary: Set in the summer after the Order of the Phoneix; Harry dealing with Sirius's death and realising Sirius wouldn't have wanted him to shut himself away. Written for thegoodgirldoll's challenge on HPFC.


**Living again**

The soft light from the moon seeped through the bedroom window illuminating a boy sitting on his bed; it was past midnight by now but Harry Potter was still very much awake. This was not new. He had not been able to sleep for weeks now, not since…

Not since the Ministry.

Tonight his mind was months away to the night Moody had showed him the picture of the first Order; it had been the night he had felt, for the first time, resentment and bitterness towards Ron, and Moody, in what he suspected was an attempt to make him feel better, had shown him the picture.

It was that picture he thought of now, which was strange since he had seen it almost a year ago _and yet_…his mind could not forget the smiling faces of those who first fought the war; they had been waving he remembered at the camera and for some peculiar reason that one fact made him squirm- it was almost as though they were waving goodbye…_Marlene McKinnon, Benjy Fenwick, Dorcas Meadows, the Longbottoms, the Prewett twins…his parents…Sirius._

A lump formed in his throat and like he had done every time this had happened, Harry tried to focus on something else; there was gnawing pain within him that even now, weeks later, he was not yet ready to examine; he didn't want to think about Sirius or the veil that had begun to make nightly appearances into his dreams…he didn't want to _feel._

He knew what Dumbledore had said but words even from the great Albus Dumbledore could not stop him thinking that he would do anything just to stop feeling, to be _numb._

The image of his waving parents and their friends re-entered his mind and once again Harry was entertained by the thought they were waving at him, their son and Sirius, Sirius who had done so much for him was waving at Harry, telling him it was ok; _he didn't blame him…_

Harry scowled angry now with himself; Sirius, like his parents, was dead and no matter how much he Harry wanted, Sirius would never tell him not to worry again, he would never smile at Harry again, never wave at him…It's a picture he told himself again, just a stupid picture.

He hit his pillow into a more comfortable position, willing sleep to come but unsurprisingly, it wouldn't and once again Harrys' mind was flooded with images; _the black dog outside Privet Drive, the Dementors coming towards Sirius, Sirius telling him the truth; the pain and guilt on his face, Sirius escaping on Buckbeak, waving goodbye to Harry…_

Harry sighed and turned over again; _sleep, come on, just sleep!_

_Sirius was telling him he was just like his father, Sirius was writing and it felt great…Sirius' head in the fire listening to all his worries, giving him advice…_

He groaned in frustration willing his mind to stop dragging in the past but…

_Sirius was there laughing with him and Dung and Sirius was belting out Christmas carols at the top of his voice…Sirius alone with Buckbeak, Sirius coming after him, Sirius laughing one last time, Sirius falling through the veil; gone, forever, gone…__**dead.**_

His chest constricted painfully and he sat up, resigned now for another sleepless night; he thought back to the picture Moody had showed him- nearly all in that picture had had brutal deaths or else suffered in some form or another. They had fought and fought and fought and… _for what?_ They had nearly all ended up dead and Voldermort was back and…how many would they lose this time?

How many people would he, Harry, lose?

He had already lost his parents…he had lost Sirius… would he lose Ron and Hermione? He couldn't imagine a life without either of them and despite what he had said in anger at the beginning of the year he knew he wouldn't have been alive if it hadn't been for them. He thought of the Ministry again, thought of Hermione laying there cold and with barely a pulse, of the Brains attacking Ron, who would always be scarred…

It had been his fault. All. His. fault.

And what if he made a mistake like that again? What if next time they weren't lucky and all he was left with was a bunch of photos waving mutely at him?

And then there was Ginny and Neville and Luna, who had all stuck by him and what about all the other Weasleys; what about Fred and George and Bill and Charlie…

He shuddered at the realisation of just how many more people he could lose; Dumbledore would smile at him if he could hear his thoughts now; love, he would say, this shows just how much you love. But to Harry this brought no comfort; they would not all make it out of the war, _love_ would not be enough to save them all, it would be ridiculous to believe that …_so how many more would they lose? _

And it wasn't only about him or his friends; just how many innocent people would die because of Voldermort? Would he be hearing of his classmates deaths_- Hannah, Susan, Justin, Ernie, Dean, Seamus, Collin, Zacharias, Lavender, the Patil twins…_

How many of them would make it?

He sat up and suddenly realised he was shaking; the fear of the war was closing in on him, he was drowning in an abyss of death and destruction, his mind seeing nothing but gloom in the days coming; he wouldn't be able to do it, he wouldn't be able to end it, to kill Voldermort.

He shook his head; willing the thoughts of death to leave him but they clung to him like the sweat on his skin and Harry eager to find a distraction, muttered a quick _Lumos_ before reaching to his bedside table and pulling out the album Hagrid had once given him. He hadn't looked at it in months; what with Umbridge and the DA and his scar all keeping him occupied but now slowly turning the leather bound cover, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm, of comfort.

He stared at the pictures of his parents, arms around each other, beaming smiles; they looked happy, carefree and despite the ache of longing that he felt Harry couldn't help but smile; he missed them, which he thought was stupid since he couldn't even remember them, but he missed them.

He slowly turned the page and looked down to see their wedding picture; his eyes lingered on Sirius standing with cocky confidence, one arm around James shoulders the other enthusiastically waving at the camera, waving at him, Harry…

He closed the album abruptly at that thought and threw it across the bed, anger at himself once again building within him; _that_ was not Sirius, that was a Sirius that Harry hadn't even had known; who didn't have haunted eyes and tautened skin, that Sirius had been happy.

_Happy. _

Harry frowned at the word, thinking back at the look on his parents faces, at the look on Sirius face, at the look on all of the first Orders face; they had all been smiling, beaming, waving heartily at the camera, nudging each other or rolling their eyes.

They had been in the midst of a war and yet…they had been happy.

He thought of Sirius, Sirius who always wanted to be free, who wanted to laugh and prank and explore. His Godfathers life had been one of imprisonment; first Azkaban and then the prison of his past at Grimmauld Place. Sirius had once told him he had been happiest in his youth, the time he had with James, Remus and even Peter, the time he had had to be free, to _live_. What would he think of Harry having the freedom to smile and laugh and instead choosing to lock himself up?

He would be angry, Harry suddenly realised. He would shout and roll his eyes at Harry; he would _want _him to live. He would want him to take chances, to break rules and laugh with Ron and Hermione…

Harry sighed and reached for the album again. He opened it at the same wedding photo looking at the faces of his parents and their closest friends; all smiling and all waving at the camera; they had died fighting against Voldermort, against pureblood supremacy, they had died trying to end the war but they had also lived and he realised, they would want him to do the same.

And for the first time in weeks Harry felt his chest lighten, if only slightly; it wouldn't be easy, the war and the pain of losing his Godfather would, he thought, never really go but as well as fighting and doing everything he could to stop Voldermort he would also live, he would live for them; the family waving up at him.

_**A/N: This was written for Thegoodgirldoll's A character a week challenge on HPFC. The prompt was waves; hand waves or sea waves. I chose Harry as my character because I don't think I've ever written anything from his POV and I really wanted to try something new. It took me ages to come up with this but I'm finally happy with it :D**_

_**Please review and let me know what you think!**_


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